Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 52

Abby

Sitting in the dimly lit kitchen, the soft clinking of our utensils is a comforting lullaby against the evening's silence. I sneak glances at Karl every now and then, his features illuminated with a gentle glow from the overhead light. He seems lost in his thoughts, enjoying every bite.

“This pasta turned out really well,” he murmurs, drawing my attention.

I chuckle, twirling another mouthful onto my fork. “Team effort, remember?”

Karl smiles. “Yes, but I think someone here had the magic touch, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

Laughing lightly, I shake my head. “You flatter too much, Mr. Know-It-All.”

As I twirl the spaghetti around my fork, Karl’s gaze meets mine, a hint of mirth in his eyes. “You know,” he begins, pausing for effect, “I never thought I’d see the day where you’re more engrossed in your food than in giving orders.”

I feign shock, clutching my chest. “Mr. Karl, are you insinuating that I’m bossy?”

His laughter fills the room, its rich timbre a comforting note in the ambiance of our intimate dinner. “Never, Miss Abby. Simply observing,” he winks.

Giggling, I take a playful swipe at him with my napkin. We continue this light banter, laughing over silly anecdotes and shared memories. With each passing minute, my guard slips a little further.

I hate myself for it, for being so easily lulled into this contentment. For being so comfortable and at peace in Karl’s presence.

As I reach for my glass of water, my fingers brush against his.

I can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, and how his skin feels against mine—strong yet gentle. In the dim light of the kitchen, he looks... captivating. The way the soft glow accentuates the rugged contours of his face, the spark in his eyes, and that boyish charm that lurks just beneath his often stern exterior—it’s all disarmingly handsome.

I can’t deny it any longer, how easy it is to get lost in the moment with him. To forget about our differences, about the hurt of the past, and simply revel in the now. The pull is magnetic, almost primal, and it scares me just how much I'm drawn to him.

“Earth to Abby,” Karl’s voice interrupts my reverie, accompanied by a chuckle.

Shaking my head slightly, I chuckle. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

“Thinking about how wonderful my culinary skills are?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Laughing, I reply, “More like thinking about how to recreate this sauce.”

Throughout the meal, we continue our back and forth, and it’s so... effortless. The laughter, the light touches, the shared glances. With every word, every gesture, Karl’s being so sweet, so genuine, that I almost forget about the man he’s supposedly become.

But as the evening progresses, Chloe’s words echo in my mind—about how Karl used to be this kind, gentle, and loving soul, and how all of it changed after the wedding.

The transformation from this sweet boyfriend to a more aloof husband. The haunting thought makes my heart clench in trepidation. This could all be an act. A way to get me back.

However, tonight, I just want to push those thoughts aside. Tonight, I want to believe in this version of Karl. I want to drown in this gentle current of nostalgia and comfort. Just for tonight, I wish to be this carefree girl again, laughing and joking with the man she once loved deeply.

I look across the table, locking eyes with him. “Thank you, Karl,” I say softly, “for tonight.”

He smiles, a genuine, warm smile. “Always, Abby. Always.”

Once we finish the meal, I clear away the plates, placing them in the dishwasher. Jumping up, I seat myself on the countertop, pulling my notepad closer.

“Alright,” I begin, twirling the pen in my fingers, “time to finalize our order. Let’s hear it.”

Without missing a beat, Karl starts listing off ingredients. “We need rosemary, thyme, some fettuccine, canned tomatoes… more of that spicy olive oil.”

I scribble quickly, noting down each item. I watch in amusement as he scuttles from one corner to the other, checking shelves, peeking into containers, and being utterly relentless in ensuring nothing’s left out.

“You’re like a whirlwind,” I comment, half laughing.